Just to Clear My Head
by Greenladie
Summary: A short stream of consciousness piece. Hamlet is in a tower reflecting on what has happened to him right before Marcellus and Horatio come to tell him about his father's ghost.


Stream of Consciousness:

Hamlet, Acts I and II

Too much has happened recently and I need some time to collect my thoughts. There are so many swirling around in my head I can barely manage to function. It's all too much… too much for one person to handle. But I have to handle it. I'm not a person, I'm a prince. Princes aren't allowed to break down. Princes aren't allowed to be encompassed in despair. They can mourn, but they can't be sad. They have to be strong, decisive, self-assured, compassionate and ruthless. Some days I'm not sure I can do it.

Horatio thinks I can do it. He has faith in me. He's the one that encouraged me to do this; to find an empty tower and write down my thoughts. "It'll give you a chance to organize that brilliant mind of yours." He said. I envy Horatio. True, he is noble, but he does not have the weight of a country on his shoulders. He can pass his time in leisure. Learning for learning's sake, while I must force myself to learn all I can for the good of my people. Of course, that was when I thought I would be the next king of Denmark. Now, who knows whom the next king will be.

Claudius, I cannot even bring myself to call him uncle, is king. He now has my birthright, he controls my people, and to add insult to injury, he has my mother too. I don't think I will ever forgive either of them for that. My mother, for marrying so soon after my good father's death, and his brother no less! And Claudius, for taking my mother. There is something sinister about him. Horatio thinks I'm mad, and I have not repeated this thought to anyone else since. Everyone loves him and thinks he will be a good king. But there is something not right… something not right about him at all. He looks at me with disdain, and sometimes I imagine him plotting against me. I dare not confide this thought to anyone, not even to Horatio. Though Horatio is my best friend, he would not understand my misgivings. Claudius has been a good king so far, despite his rather suspicious wedding to my mother. Horatio would say that he is an efficient ruler, so despite his somewhat strange manner, he should be respected. But I cannot bring myself to respect him. Mother wants desperately for me to like him and to respect him as king; but to be honest, Claudius seems oblivious to my existence. Just this morning, I was mourning the death of my father, the true king, and he thought my melancholy was for want of the crown! He then attempted to console me by telling me that the crown would come next to me and that I should not worry about the fate of Denmark. I would much rather not be king, to be honest. I could go back to Wittenberg with Horatio and study in peace, perhaps even marry Ophelia without having the weight of a country on my shoulders. But that is not my fate.

I do love Ophelia. She is a kind creature, and pure of spirit (unlike my own mother, I am beginning to think.) But I have my doubts. Claudius will probably want me to marry some foreign princess, maybe even a woman of the Norwegian nobility. And I have a sneaking suspicion that her father has been conversing with Claudius. He is over-protective of her, and her brother Laertes even more so, if that is possible. Neither of them let me near her without death glares, and Ophelia tells me of their constant cautions against my presence. They seem to think my intentions dishonourable. I am insulted, to be thought such a hypocrite. How could I dare to complain about Claudius' and my mother's behavior if I intended to do the same?

The pressure is building every day. Everyone is looking to me for response, but they never heed my answers. They hang off me every second of every day, asking pointless questions, getting insulted if I do not answer immediately and disregarding my opinions once I've given them. If you ask me, everyone has had far too much to drink of late. That is all Claudius' doing. Maybe, if we are lucky, he will drink himself to death one night and Denmark will finally be able to rest in peace.

I must end here. Marcellus and Horatio have just come to find me. By the looks on their faces it is urgent. Perhaps I will take this up again later, but I doubt I will have the time.


End file.
